


Night Garden

by Skylark



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Universe, Cooking, Gap Filler, Gardens & Gardening, Getting Together, M/M, Plothole Fill, Spoilers For The Entire Game, Survival, The Long Night, World of Ruin, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: The streets are empty when Prompto glances out the window. "It's quiet," he says."It's always quiet now, after the first riots," Ignis replies.(Things grow.)





	Night Garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morrezela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/gifts).



> For the [FFXV White Day Exchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ffxv_whiteday_2019). Prompt was "Ignis and Prompto get together during the world of darkness era." Thank you for the opportunity to write about my two favorite characters during the part of the game I fret about the most. This fic _definitely_ got away from me, so shout out to the small army of people who helped me brainstorm, fact check, research, and beta-read this fic—you know who you are.

Prompto pokes his head through the door to find Ignis shirtless at the sink, head tipped back as he shears away layers of foam with a straight razor. He freezes, not wanting to surprise him, but before he can retreat the blade pauses just above his adam's apple.

Ignis cocks his head. "Prompto?"

"Yeah, it's me," Prompto says. "Do you want me to wait outside?"

"If you'd be more comfortable," Ignis replies. "Don't stand around on my account."

Prompto glances around, then steps into the dark room, settling on the edge of the bathtub. The air inside is close and humid—Ignis always shaves after bathing. Light spills in from the open door, catching on the pearls of water on the shower tiles. "This is good."

"As you wish," Ignis says, and resumes shaving. Prompto watches, admiring his deft movements in the mirror. He's always loved Ignis's hands, loved watching him flip daggers and hamburgers with equal ease, loved the easy way his fingers would drum against the steering wheel a lifetime ago. The way they examine his skin, checking for strays as the razor moves methodically across his face, is mesmerizing. Ignis always shaved by touch, even when he could see, he explained once; it was more accurate than sight alone. Shaving blind is no different from shaving on dark mornings, hours before the rest of them would wake up and start breaking down camp.

"How was Galdin Quay?" Ignis asks, as he runs his fingers over the point of his chin.

"Worse," Prompto says, voice quiet. There's a pause before he says, "I didn't bring anyone back."

Ignis makes a soft noise through his nose. "Perhaps you should stop looking," he says. "It places you in a great deal of danger for very little gain, and we can hardly feed the people who are already here."

"You didn't stop looking for me."

Ignis's hands still for a moment. His lips purse before his hands start up again, busy. "Very well."

Prompto watches the blade press against the soft skin of his neck, sees how it skims away the layer of foam to reveal fresh skin beneath. There's something artistic about it, something that makes him want to try to capture it through his camera lens. He watches instead, trying to memorize the long line of his throat, the way his mouth is held taut with concentration.

His gaze travels upward still, over the scarring on his face, silvery-vivid. Prompto doesn't think he'll ever get used to it, but he doesn't hate it, either. After all, Prompto would have done the same thing in his place.

"How have things been here?" he asks. "I saw the streets are all covered now."

There's a pause as Ignis finishes a stroke. "The areas close to the power plant are still uncovered," he replies. "We're having trouble securing enough sheet metal to finish the work. But eighty percent of the city is sheltered from the elements now, which will help a great deal with the housing shortage we were suffering otherwise. We're lucky the mild weather has held, even without the sun."

"Yeah," Prompto murmurs. Ignis spent a lot of time early on fretting over a looming nuclear winter, but Lestallum is as balmy as ever, even though the sun hasn't risen in almost a year. There are many things Prompto doesn't understand, though, and if he worried about all of them he wouldn't do anything else. Ignis just says to be grateful for the boon, so he tries not to dwell on it.

He does miss hot baths, though, and the blessed high water pressure of the crown city. They don't shower anymore, having reverted to washing with basins of water they dump over their heads and bodies the old-fashioned way. There's no long soaks, either—they can't filter enough water to spare for it. It's not what Prompto grew up with, but by now it's hardly a novelty. Just a necessity.

Ignis finishes shaving, splashes his face with water and aftershave, and cleans his razor. His hair is falling into his face, soft, still damp. Without asking, Prompto gets up and reaches for the hair gel on the vanity.

Shaving is easy, but styling hair blind is more challenging. Ignis has some muscle memory—running the gel through his hair, pulling it forward and up—but it's never as perfect as Ignis would like, and he knows it. Prompto's been helping him since Altissia.

"You got a haircut," he says, fingertips stroking against Ignis's scalp. With his hair down it wasn't as noticeable, but as Prompto lifts and applies hairspray he can tell. The shorter hair gives Ignis a more subdued look.

"Easier to manage," Ignis says. "More consistency in the style when you're not here."

"You just want me around to keep you looking good," Prompto teases as he brushes the hair back from Ignis's temples.

Ignis chuckles. "I wish you were around for more reasons than that," he says, and the easy way he says it makes Prompto's hands fall still. He looks up into Ignis's face. There's a beat—

"You and Gladio both," Ignis says, and Prompto breathes out, slow.

"Y-yeah," Prompto says. "I like the Hunters, but it's not the same. Gladio's busy with the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive, I get it, but...I wish he'd come back to visit more."

"I wish I could be out there with you both," Ignis says, and at the surge of old bitterness in his voice Prompto instinctively grabs his face.

"Hey," Prompto says. "They need you here. No one else could keep this place going, you know that."

Ignis's face is soft in his hands, freshly smooth. "I do know," Ignis says, forcing the words out. Prompto's thumbs stroke over his cheekbones, and he can feel Ignis lean into his palms as he releases a slow, controlled breath.

It takes a few more moments before he speaks again. "I apologize. We're all doing the best we can."

"It's me, remember? I used to freak out like every other day, you're allowed to lose your temper once in a while." Prompto releases his hold and reaches up to push the last few strands of hair into place. "One last spray should do it," he says, and then, "All right! You're dressed to impress now."

"Thank you," Ignis says, but he doesn't step away. There's something in his body language, some listening tension. Prompto glances up, curious, before blinking as Ignis touches his face in return.

Ignis frowns instantly. "What is this?" he says, fingers ghosting over Prompto's fuzzy chin.

"Hey, you're not the only one allowed to have a new look," Prompto whines.

Ignis doesn't say anything, only gives a judgemental hum, and Prompto frowns. "We're in a post-apocalyptic world now!" he protests. "Everyone's always, like, grizzled in those. I gotta look the part, right?"

"You certainly do not," Ignis says, but he's smiling, so Prompto grins back.

\--

Even before the long night fell, Lestallum was a town strictly regimented by the power plant's shifts. It's seven AM now, but the streets are empty when Prompto glances out the window.

"It's quiet," he says.

"It's always quiet now, after the first riots," Ignis says, extending a hand. Prompto hands him the salt before returning to chopping up the mushrooms. He always calls them the _first_ riots, as if more are inevitable. Prompto shivers and chops a little harder than necessary, using the thunking of his knife against the chopping board to drown out the unnerving silence.

"It's not so quiet in here, of course," Ignis says, and for a moment Prompto thinks he's being obliquely scolded before Ignis continues, "Good morning, Sania."

"Good morning!" her pleasant voice booms out as she walks into the kitchen. Prompto jumps and whirls. "Oh, Prompto, you're back too? When'd you get in?"

"A couple of hours ago, I guess?" Prompto says, smothering his startle reflex with a shaky smile. He forgot how sharp Ignis's hearing is. "It's hard to keep track of time out there."

"And how was it? Did you find anything?"

"Prompto can give you a full report after breakfast," Ignis says firmly. Sania laughs, but her eyes still gleam at the prospect of new information.

It's small things that reassure Prompto. The rising hubbub as other city leaders file into the kitchen (to help) and the dining room outside (to eat). The chiming of the clock in the Leville's lobby, loud enough to be heard from all the way in the kitchen. There's a small core that stays in Lestallum constantly, like Ignis and Sania, and a larger contingency that cycle through when their duties allow, like Prompto and Gladio. Prompto soon finds himself vying for counter space as other members arrive to help Ignis chop, cook and season a meal for twenty-odd people. Ignis lifts a small tasting dish to his mouth, gives a considering swallow, and then smiles the way he used to. Prompto's heart lifts.

It's mostly mushrooms; it's always mostly mushrooms, now. They're fond of the dark humidity that enfolds Lestallum, fast-growing and without a high nutrient requirement. Everyone's diet is dominated by various fungi and yeasts, supplemented by a thin, weak mushroom wine that's more plentiful than the water they so carefully filter. But it's also supplemented by a few prized greens, and this time there are beans, too.

"So the base is doing all right?" Prompto says, his voice as eager as Sania's was before.

"Better than ever," Sania replies. "But of course it is, Ignis never leaves anything halfway done."

"Come now," Ignis says, ducking his head, "I only proposed the idea. The engineers of Lestallum truly led the effort, and your own research helped us decide on which crops to—"

"You'll be staying out there again, Prompto?" Sania barrels on, heedless of Ignis's dissembling. When Prompto nods, she says, "Good! But I hope you stick around the Leville for a few days. I could use an extra hand with some projects I've got brewing."

Prompto glances at Ignis, whose mouth is still open from his interrupted response. A resigned expression crosses his face as he slowly closes his mouth, and Prompto grins. "Yes," Ignis manages. "You're always welcome here."

"I'm glad that's settled," Sania says. "Let's eat."

Prompto nudges Ignis with his knee under the table, feeling camaraderie in the face of Sania's social bulldozing. Ignis nudges back, turning away to hide a bemused smile beneath his hand.

\--

Prompto always drifts off a normal sleep cycle when he's away from Lestallum. In perennial darkness, circadian rhythms naturally extend to cycles longer than 24 hours, and on top of that, Hunter parties only sleep during whatever small snatches of safety they can find. So when Ignis wakes and sits up beside him, Prompto rolls over with a groan, feeling groggy and jittery all at once.

"Rise and shine," Ignis says, gently merciless as he places a hand on Prompto's shoulder.

"Ugh, I know," Prompto complains, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Beside him, Ignis reaches for his sunglasses on the nightstand and dons them without hesitation. Prompto's body screams for more sleep, but he forces himself to stare at the small ceiling lamp, willing the melatonin in his brain to degrade. "Please tell me there's coffee," he whines, and Ignis laughs.

"One of us at last, are you?"

"If only Noct could see me now," Prompto says, and Ignis pauses. It takes Prompto a moment for his sleep-addled brain to catch up to his mouth, and then he says, "Oh. I mean—uh."

"He'd call you a traitor," Ignis replies, voice carefully light. "'Bean juice,' I believe he used to call it."

"I'll drink to that," Prompto says, and Ignis smiles.

\--

Ignis's day is so jam-packed Prompto wonders if this was what it was like for him back at the Citadel. He bounces around the city attending meetings: coordinating efforts to place floodlights on the high points of the city to keep the daemons as far away as possible; organizing militia to combat rising crime rates; discussing the current output of the power plant, and matching it to the Kingsglaive's attempts to run lighted pathways out from the city; talking to medical staff to learn the best ways to prevent more mundane outbreaks, like dysentery and the flu. Things are better than they were—Prompto remembers the way Ignis says _the first riots_ , and shivers anew—but there's still tons to do if they want to sustain this for years, rather than months.

Ignis serves Noctis, even now, protecting his people and upholding his promise to wait for his return. The only way to wait is to survive, and the only way to survive is to keep the city alive, and so Ignis works and works.

Prompto is eating when Ignis returns for a late lunch, as is his habit. Ignis comes into the kitchen and Prompto calls out, "I’ve got a bowl of soup with your name on it."

Ignis hesitates on his way to the pantry and redirects back to the counter that Prompto is leaning against. "I thought Sania would be keeping your nose to the grindstone," Ignis replies, a smile quirking his lips.

"I haven't seen you in two months," Prompto says, turning to ladle Ignis a bowl. "I wouldn't pass up a chance to hang out with you, come on."

As Ignis takes the bowl he murmurs, "But to have lunch waiting? I didn't expect you to memorize my schedule."

"That's our Iggy," Prompto says, nudging their shoulders together. "I could set my watch by you. Well, if I had one."

Ignis sits so that their sides brush, companionable pressure, and a small silence falls as they eat. The sound of their utensils clacking echoes throughout the cavernous space. The Leville was once a high-end hotel, and the kitchen is high-end to match; it's easy for Prompto to imagine rows of chefs cooking and rushing about. But now that the hotel is the headquarters for whatever's left of humanity, some combination of a halfway house and a city hall, it's mostly used for storage space.

"How was your morning?" Ignis asks, and Prompto laughs.

"Sania grilled me for ages on any new daemon types we might have seen. I tried to snap some pics for her to reference, but night shots are hard, you know? Shaky camera work doesn't make for good photos."

"What with all the running and fighting, I presume," Ignis says.

"Haha, yeah, gun in one hand, camera in the other—" Prompto mimes it, bowl teetering on his knee as his hands wave in the air.

"I'm glad you made it back in one piece," Ignis murmurs, and Prompto goes still.

"...We did lose a few," Prompto says. "But we found some old parts that might be useful to Cindy, so. We gotta do what we can, right?"

"Indeed," Ignis says, and goes back to eating. Prompto watches, familiar with the way his face settles into a severe expression when at rest. Prompto used to find him intimidating, he remembers. He wonders when that stopped.

"You're always helping me," Ignis says. "Would that I could return the favor."

"Aw, come on Iggy," Prompto says with a laugh. "It's not like that. Friends don't trade."

"I don't mean..." Ignis sighs, before continuing, "I simply wish to express my appreciation. Things are....easier, when you're here."

"Really?" Prompto says. "I didn't think I did much of anything. Crashed on your bed and ran a few errands, that's all."

"Styling my hair," Ignis says. He turns to lean into Prompto’s space. "Practicing Crownsguard kata with me. Preparing meals. Designing ways for me to practice blind knife throwing; even our ordinary conversations help illuminate new angles and options on previously insurmountable problems."

Prompto rubs at the back of his neck. "You're embarrassing me, man."

"I mean it," Ignis says. His voice is quiet and earnest. "More than I can say."

The ensuing silence is more awkward than the first. Ignis pulls away after a moment, setting his finished bowl to the side, but Prompto's lost in thought. He stirs his bowl, watching the cloud of dissolved miso bloom in the broth.

"You help me too, you know," Prompto says. "I would have given up a long time ago if you weren't here in Lestallum, doing everything you're doing. Knowing we're all in this together, that there's a place we can come back to...it means a lot." Prompto huffs out a laugh. "I've thought about giving up so many times. I'll be out there in the dark and it's so quiet and I'll start thinking about, all sorts of—all kinds of stuff. Bad stuff. But I remember Lestallum, and I remember you. I think about how I—I've gotta get back in one piece. You already do so much, Ignis," he says. "You don't have to do anything for me, you know I—"

Prompto gasps, biting his tongue to stop himself. The unfinished sentence hangs in the air, and Ignis's attention is palpable. He feels his face fluoresce red.

"I had no idea," Ignis murmurs. He reaches out to place a careful hand on his knee. “Prompto, I—”

Prompto buries his face in his hands. "Okay, this conversation is officially too embarrassing," he says. "Can we talk about something else? Please?"

Ignis hesitates for a long moment before nodding and pulling his hand away. Prompto feels the tension leave his body in a big sigh.

"Right, well, a-anyway," he says with an awkward laugh, "Sania was also telling me you've never been to the base. You serious, man? It's been your pet project since day one and you haven't gone to see it _once_?"

Ignis leans back. "I don't do much seeing these days," he points out. Prompto's head whips towards him, a stab of guilt in his stomach, before he sees Ignis's laconic half-smile and realizes it's his attempt at a joke.

He laughs, but it's more of a grimace. "You can still, I don't know, experience it," he says. "I was going to head over there tomorrow anyway, you should totally come with. Witness the fruits of your labor—literally!"

Ignis hums, considering. Prompto bumps his side, eager. "Come on, come on," he wheedles.

"I'll have to double-check my schedule," Ignis says, and Prompto knows that's basically a _yes_.

\--

No one was ready for The Long Night. The people of Lestallum had no warning for the crowds that flooded the city, for all the extra people that would need food and housing as the environment began to die. When Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto first arrived in Lestallum after Noctis's disappearance, the city was falling apart, on the verge of famine and terrified of the near-daily daemon attacks of those early days.

Gladiolus roused the Kingsglaive and set about defending the city, but Ignis said food was the most pressing problem. If they ran out of food, he said, they'd tear themselves apart from the inside as people became desperate, and then they'd have no strength to fight the daemons. Prompto looked at the ingredients they'd carefully stored over their journey and said, "Can't we use these?"

To grow crops from their clippings, Sania said, they'd need light and water, if not soil, and a large enclosed area that could be lit and defended from the daemons. Fort Vaullerey was nearby, easily accessible by Aranea's airships, already built for defense and easy to cover. Reinforcing and defending the base as it was converted into a farm gave the refugees something to do, and a measure of hope spread throughout the city. When Biggs and Wedge brought the first airship filled with vegetables and fresh fish, the streets rang with cheers.

Prompto doesn't have a room in the Leville; he's not used to sleeping by himself anymore, he says, and the people who live in the city need it more than someone who's rarely there. Instead, he's taken to spending much of his time on the base, ferrying news from the city and helping to defend from daemons when necessary. He has a small room there, really more of a corner where he stores a few things—a bedroll, some photos.

Prompto's always been a city boy, but he likes Fort Vaullerey more than Lestallum. He can tell when Ignis figures out why: he lifts his head and takes a deep breath of the air, fresh and fragrant with the green scent of growth, and Ignis's whole body relaxes.

Prompto can't help but grin as he guides Ignis down the short flight of stairs. "Right?" he says. "I can't wait to show you around, come on."

The building is hot and humid like a greenhouse beneath the relentless shine of the grow lights. Ignis follows Prompto through rows of hydroponic plants, growing in vertical lines all the way up to the ceiling. It's quiet, save for the low chatter of the workers and the whine of gears as machines ferry them up and down, harvesting and tending to the plants. Ignis reaches out and feels a leaf from each new crop, and Prompto can see him commit each different shape and texture to memory, determining how to tell them apart by touch and smell alone.

"It's almost time for dinner," Prompto says. "Why don't you pick out some things and we can cook?"

Ignis blinks, his hands poised around a Leiden Pepper. "Are you sure?"

"It's what everyone else does," he says. "Usually I eat in the canteen, but I have a camp stove in my room—we can cook something ourselves, if you want. You'd eat this food one way or the other, why not now?"

"Why not indeed," Ignis says after a moment, but there's a note of wonder in his voice. He smiles and plucks the pepper to weigh it in his hand.

The next stop is the large water tanks where bluegills swim in tame circles. The plants filter the water for the fish, who provide waste that fertilizes the plants, and they reproduce fast enough that the excess can somewhat supplement the city's diet. Ignis dips his hand into the water and takes a soft breath of surprise when one nibbles on his fingers. "The fish in the waters around the city have all been infected with the protozoa," he says. "I'm glad we were able to save these, at least. For Noctis."

"Yeah," Prompto says, "at least he'll have something to fish when he gets back."

The silence hangs for a moment before Prompto clears his throat and says, "Do you want to cook up one of these too?"

"If it's all right," Ignis says, so Prompto calls over the attendant on shift and asks if they can take one.

Fire isn't allowed in the building for obvious reasons, so they head outside under the floodlights and cook on the concrete walkways outside. Some guards come over, lured by the smell of fish cooking, and they end up eating under the washed-out stars with a few others, laughing and licking their fingers. The heat of the stove casts a small warmth against Prompto's knees. His eyes are on Ignis, who sits cross-legged on his low chair and leans forward to listen to another guard's story, every line of his body relaxed. Ignis smiles, light glistening off his sunglasses, and casually shifts his foot forward to press against Prompto’s shin. Prompto thinks of the sentence he couldn't finish in the kitchen, the sentence he's never said.

\--

When they return indoors, Ignis's head lifts. "It's...dark," Ignis says, cautiously.

"You can tell?" 

Ignis nods. 

"That’s awesome," he says. "Yeah, the plants actually grow slower if you leave the lights on 24 hours a day, so they turn them off for 12 hours at a time."

Despite the explanation, Ignis still looks wary. Prompto can’t blame him—every time he sits in the back of the Hunters’ flatbed truck as they leave the city, he feels the same stab of reflexive fear. But it’s not pitch black, just very dim, and the quiet is undercut by the gentle trickling of the water system. Prompto reaches for Ignis’s hand and runs it through the leaves on either side of them, feeling them brush against both their fingers, smooth and alive. "I didn’t like it either at first," Prompto says. Ignis’s hand is warm under his. "But now I come here just because I want to, sometimes."

Ignis turns his head, considering their surroundings. He moves his hand of his own accord, pushing through the leaves again, but doesn’t shake off Prompto’s loose grip. 

Prompto lets go and they move deeper into the greenery at a slow pace. Ignis is the only person he can be quiet around like this, without feeling the need to fill the air. The silence is void of tension because Ignis is there: he knows Ignis, and Ignis knows everything else.

"It reminds me of the gardens of the Citadel," Ignis says softly.

"What did you think of me back then?" Prompto asks. "It must have been weird, seeing the random plebe that Noctis brought home after school one day."

Ignis shakes his head. "I was happy Noctis had a friend," he says. "Your background checks were unremarkable, and you were good for Noctis. I found your presence to be highly valuable."

 _Valuable,_ Prompto thinks. 

"And what about now?" he murmurs. His voice is careful, almost shy.

Ignis pauses. They’re in the center now, surrounded by a season’s growth, and the plants brush against their clothes and close over both their heads. They rustle when Ignis turns toward him.

"Now?" Ignis says. His voice is careful too. He reaches up, brushing his fingers against Prompto’s face, tracing over the nervous moue of his lips, the slight pinch between his eyebrows. Prompto takes a sharp breath, feeling it reflected against his own face by the closeness of Ignis’s palm. "Now, Prompto, you are much more than that."

The breath leaves Prompto’s chest in a soft whine. He kisses Ignis’s hand, helplessly, and when Ignis removes it he pushes forward, reaching for anything he can hold onto—shoulders, cheeks. His fingers bump Ignis’s sunglasses up as he leans towards him, feeling Ignis gather him up in his arms and sagging into the hold.

It’s a haze of kissing for a moment, there in the greenery and the dark. Prompto is half-afraid he’s dreaming, but he could never have imagined the specific feel of Ignis’s lips against his, of the impatient noises Ignis makes as he cradles his head in his hands. "I’ve always loved your hands," Prompto gasps against his mouth, mindless, "I’ve always, I—"

Ignis hushes him with more kisses.

\--

"Do you actually want me to stop looking?" Prompto says a few hours later. They’re lying on his bedroll and Ignis is trailing his fingertips over Prompto’s bare chest, committing him to memory the same way he did the garden earlier.

The fingers pause, and Prompto says, "Forget I said anything if that means you’ll never stop doing that ever."

Ignis muffles a laugh against his shoulder, and his fingers resume their slow exploration. Prompto gives a pleased sigh and lets his weight relax further into the bedroll. 

"What did you mean?" Ignis asks after a moment.

"What? Oh." Prompto licks his lips. "I meant, when we were talking before, you said you wanted me to stop looking for survivors. Do you mean it? I could stay here at the base. Daemons attack this place all the time, the guards could use the help."

There’s a pause. Prompto finds himself holding his breath against a spike of nerves, but Ignis’s hand moves up to trail against his neck, over the gentle curve of his jaw.

"No," Ignis says. "I know how much it means to you, and to the people of Lestallum. Many of their loved ones are still missing—knowing that someone is out there looking for them against all odds gives them some measure of peace. The Hunters would be weaker without you, as well. It’s only that...I can’t stand the thought of losing you," Ignis says, a rare tremor in his voice. "I would never want to cage you, but only wish that you return safely home."

Prompto turns over, tucking himself into the curl of Igins’s body. Ignis’s hand drops from his shoulder to wrap around his back.

"An impossible request, I am aware," Ignis murmurs into his ear.

"We’ve done impossible things before. _Lestallum_ is impossible. The daemons should have killed us all by now. But they can’t," Prompto says, his voice fierce, "and they can’t keep me from you, either. I’ll always come back. I promise."

Ignis takes a sharp breath. His arms squeeze tighter around Prompto, who tilts his head up to press kisses to Ignis’s face.

"I don’t plan to leave for a while, though," Prompto says. "I feel like we’ve got some catching up to do."

The kisses turn lingering, and Ignis turns to catch one with his mouth. Prompto gasps when Ignis’s hands drift lower.

"Indeed," Ignis says, his voice low and warm. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like."


End file.
